To my First-born,
I love you.
You’ve always been a fighter. You fought sleep, you fought meals…you just…fought. But as you grew, this trait served you. You’ve overcome so much.
Oh, the hospitals. Surgery after surgery. I still recall the doctors taking three-month-old-you into the operating room. Misery.
No school work for you! Just notebooks full of elaborate comic strips. You had us and your teachers so worried. How bored you were. We thought you were lazy. We didn’t see your immense creativity.
You were always so quiet. No one understood what went on behind those inquisitive eyes. You stared outside for hours. Thinking.
First you taught me how to pull out my hair, then you taught me how to relax.
I love that you’re our different drummer. We needed some shaking in our organized, routine world.
You have a heart for your friends. You enjoy life. You rest when needed. You’re eloquent. And confrontational. But you confront injustice.
You appreciate beauty. You love music (even though our musical tastes differ). You have so many talents. You’re a technology, automotive, and art genius, but you don’t see it. Everything you touch, you fix.
You’re a risk-taker. Blend with wisdom and you’ll go far.
You’re humble. You give the best hugs. You love animals. You don’t take a path, you make one. You find ways to promote others as you promote yourself. You like strolls through parks, swimming in the ocean, hiking to waterfalls, and camping under the stars.
You’ve a long way to go, but you’ve come equally far. I’m proud of you.
God knew the world needed another fearless warrior. I love you. Keep the faith.
To my Second-born,
I love you.
You’ve always been happy. Even when we laid you in your crib, you laughed.
Though you were always happy, you’ve not always been content. You can’t stand the quiet. You’re noisy. My lefty.
You have the gift of making people laugh. You were the class clown. But that trait was tempered with respect for authority.
You’re messy. You came home from school leaving a trail of shoes and socks behind you. But who could complain? You’d plop yourself on the floor beside your book bag and tackle your homework before you did anything else.
You cried when you didn’t know what you wanted to be when you grew up. I have no idea why. You’d narrowed it down to two things: an actor or a comedian. Score.
You wore out your Stevie Wonder and Steven Curtis Chapman CDs. We must’ve named you aptly.
You’re the same in church as you are in public. You’re disciplined. You’re honest. You’re active and driven. You make a goal and achieve it.
You hate evil. You love people. You’re authentic. You love the city, but you’re a country boy at heart. You and your ball caps.
God knew the world needed another joyful noise. I love you. Keep the faith.